


I want to scream I love you from the top of my lungs

by FOBlovur1824



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anorexia, Cutting, Depression, F/M, M/M, Possible Character Death, Sad Patrick, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sorry not sorry for this, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Totally cliche, bullimia, its intense and sad, patrick in love with pete, possible happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-02-28 18:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13277208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FOBlovur1824/pseuds/FOBlovur1824
Summary: Patrick is struggling with depression. when pete starts avoiding or what seems like it, Patrick starts to fall on a downward spiral. will pete be able to help Patrick before it's too late?*TRIGGER WARNING* self harm, mentions of suicidal thoughts, and EXTREME EATING DISORDER.if anyone does, or has struggled with these thoughts feel free to Dm me. no judgment at all. i understand. 8 months clean. this is my second fanfic, so enjoy!





	1. I want to be known for my hits not just my misses

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS THE THIRD DRAFT OF THIS STORY. I KEEP ACCIDENTALLY DELETING IT. UGHHHHHH

**Patrick**

i'm alone. again. joe and andy already went out. and god only know's where pete is. probably with his girlfriend Meagan. he's been spending more and more time with her, and less and less time with me. he's avoiding me. I don't know what I did. he's my best friend. he's more than that. he's my everything. I love him. I'm in love with him and he doesn't know it. not that he would even care. he would probably be disgusted with me if I told him. it would ruin our relationship. not that he even cares about me now, as his best friend. he's abandoned me. god I hate myself so much. I pushed him away. I must of somehow. I have no idea what I did. I whish I knew. I'd do anything just to have him take a second glance at me. not that he ever would.

he has Meagan. Meagan is everything I'm not. sweet, beautiful, and skinny. so skinny. I wish I was as thin as her. but I'm not. I look I  the mirror. I can see my stomach bulge. all of my ugly stretch marks. it's hideous. my stomach bulges out several inches past my waist line. that's why Pete doesn't want to be around me isn't it?? I'm fat and ugly and I'm a fake. i'm hardly even talented am I? he's probably embarrassed to be around me. i'm mortified that I let myself get this way! I look disgusting. like absolute shit. I need to lose some weight before tour. 

I cannot go on stage like this. it would be an embarrassment. horrendous. I have to cut back my calories that's all. it's simple really. besides. I'd do anything for Pete wouldn't I ?

***

my new diet is going well. it's been only two days, and I've already lost two pounds. I want to lose more. I need to lose more. my goal weight is 100. then will I be attractive enough that Pete can hang around? 

*** 

it's been a little over a month. I've lost a good bit. I had to replace my entire wardrobe. twice. I look better now, but it's not enough. it's never enough. I sigh, and go pack up my suitcase. tour starts tomorrow. I'm nervous. I haven't heard from Pete once. not once. it's been almost 3 months since I heard from him last. he hates me. oh god he hates me. I prepare my house to be vacant for several months. I unplug everything and do some general housekeeping and things. I don't need to clean out the refrigerator. there's nothing to throw away. absolutely nothing. it's completely empty of all food. I don't store food in my fridge anymore. there's no point. I don't eat food, and no one even comes to my house anymore. 

I take a quick shower, and then go to bed. I fall into a restless sleep.

***

as soon as I open my eyes, I know I'm late. the light streams in through my window. too much light. shit. I jump up and grab my phone. 

_2 missed calls_

**_Pete: Patrick where the hell are you? we were supposed to leave an hour ago!_ **

shit. shit. shit. shit. I can't believe I fucked this up! Pete is going to be so pissed. I grave the nearest clothes and fedora. I throw everything on, then I grab my glasses and luggage and run out the door. I throw the suitcase into my trunk, and jump into the front seat, banging my head on the door frame as I go. ouch fuck I don't have time for this shit. as I drive, I break several speeding laws to get there as fast as I possibly could. as it is it still takes me twenty minutes. 

I park my car, grab my stuff and board the van. 

"FINALLY"

"sorry I was late."

"whatever. just hurry up so we can get going." Pete snaps.

he hates me. he fucking hates me. I don't blame him at all. I hate myself too. I toss my suitcase on my bed. I open it up, and I grab my razor. well one of them. I walk to the bathroom and quietly lock the door. I smash it against the sink and it breaks into tiny pieces. I prick up one of the blades and stare at it. I pull up my sleeve and press the cold hard metal to my skin. do you really want to do this? the voice containing the last sliver of reason in my head whispers. I push away the thought.  _do it. you deserve it. Pete hates you. you're fat. you're annoying as hell. you aren't even talented._

a single tear drips out of my eye, and onto my arm, leaving a trail of salt water in it's wake. I put pressure on to the blade, and then slowly drag it down the length of my arm, following the path or the tear. I feel the blade tug and slice through my skin. it burns, but at the same time I relish the pain. at first nothing happens. then tiny beaded droplets of blood begin to appear. they starts out tiny, and then being to grow together, until there is a trickle of blood running down my arm. after another moments hesitation I begin to open up my arm. gash after gash. cut after cut. again, and again, until I'm lightheaded and dizzy form blood loss, and the floor it red. 

I begin to clean up, the blade first. then my arm, and finally the floor. I take one more look in the mirror, wipe the tears off, and plaster I bright smile on my face. when I exit the bathroom, joe immediately yells

"that was a record shit Patrick. could you have taken any longer?"

I laugh nervously. if only you knew what I was really doing in there. 

as soon as I walk in the room all of them stare at me. 

"woah man did you lose weight?"

"yeah I did joe."

Pete stares at me for a minute until he finally makes eye contact. then he just looks back down at his phone. Andy gives me a worried look but says nothing. after a few minutes of silence, we all begin to catch up. for a moment, it almost seems like things were the way they were. us goofing off and joking around. the band. all of it. I missed it desperately. after a few hours of chatting Pete asked about lunch. 

"guys can we please get some food?? I am fucking starving man."

food? shit. how could I not even think about that? shit. I start to panic. I breathe in faster and faster. I can't breath I cannot breath. I'm gasping for air. 

"Patrick?? Patrick are you ok? "Pete kneels down in front of me. "

breathe. in out. come on 'trick breathe for me."

as much as I try I still can't breathe. 

"don't just fucking stand there! find his inhaler! breathe trick please. breath for me."  
my vision starts to go in and out. I'm seeing black spots. I start to feel numb. 

"FOUND IT" 

joe yells form the back of the bus. he runs out and tosses it to Pete, who helps me put it in my mouth. I pump it and the medicine enters my lungs. I start to breath. in and out. in and out. as soon as I can breathe normally, Pete sits beside me and gives me one of his famous bear hugs. he pulls me close to his chest, and I start sobbing. Pete rubs his hand up and down my back in an attempt to comfort me as I ruined Pete's shirt. 

"hey it's ok trick. it's ok. your ok. he rubs my back until I finally stop sobbing. I take a deep breath and pull back looking at Pete.

"I'm sorry."

"'trick. you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I'm just so thankful you're ok. do you think you're up to eating out now?"

I nod. what's the use in arguing.

I grab my fedora and we head out. the service there is fast, so it's not long before the waitress comes to take our orders. 

"what can I get you gentlemen tonight?"

Pete orders a burger, joe orders pasta, and Andy orders something vegan. then it's my turn. 

"I'll have a salad please." 

"ok. I'll be back with your food soon"

Pete looks at me for a minute before saying, "just a salad? are you going vegetarian again?"

"something like that."

when our food arrives everyone is so interested in their own meal, that they don't notice me shoving most of mine into my napkin. I eat a few bites, and then the waitress takes my plate. I excuse myself to the bathroom, and enter one of the stalls. I gently stick my finger down my throat causing myself to throw up. I flush the toiled and start to wash my hands, when I glance in the mirror. I look ugly as usual, but I look terribly worn. I shake my head and go back to our table. 

"ready to leave?"

I nod. we walk back to the tour bus. as soon as we get inside, I head of to bed. 

"night."

I'm greeted with a chorus of nights, and good nights.   I strip, and then crawl under the covers. after what seems like forever, I fall into a fitful sleep. 

***

I wake up around 3 am, shaking and covered in a cold sweat. I sit up, and look around me, making sure I didn't wake anyone. nightmares. again. they keep me up almost every night. filled with getting booed off stage, kicked out of the band, and my dream always ends with Pete yelling at me and me attempting suicide. it's very unnerving, and It always leaves me fairly shaken and anxious. 

I lay down for an what felt like an hour, and attempted to go back to sleep. unfortunately, the dream left me wide awake and terrified. I stick my hand underneath my pillow and grab my blade. I hold it in my palm, then maneuver it between my finger tips. I press down on the blade with my finger, causing the blade to slice open the skin allowing for tiny droplets of blood to drip out. I stare at the blood coming out of my finger tips, before quietly making my way to the bathroom. I turn on the dimmest light, and then I silently shut and lock the door behind me. I sit on the cold tile floor, causing and uncontrollable shiver to leave my body. 

I pull up my other sleeve, revealing a new, unmarked forearm. I hold the blade between my fingers, and let the sharp edge rest on my arm. I slowly apply pressure, attempting to make it as slow and painful as I can. then, I slowly drag the blade down my arm, leaving a long jagged gash in it's wake. I draw a few more lines down my arm, then set the blade down beside me. I feel better now. calmer. I clean up the bathroom, and my arm, then head back to bed, praying for a dreamless sleep. 

***

I wake up again around four pm, just in time to start getting ready for the upcoming show tonight. after I'm dressed, we head to our dressing room with all of our stuff, and start a sound check. I really really want to cut right now. I'm incredibly nervous, and I just crave it. but I know I can't not now. it's too risky, at least today. before I know it, we are heading out on stage, ready to perform.

***

the show was amazing! it was the first time in so long that I've felt something. something besides sadness. the entire show was great. the crowd was electric, excited, and they just loved our entire act. the feelings of happiness last for about an hour. then, I just felt empty. worthless. even worse than before. we were talking in the main room about the show. Joe and Andy on separate chairs, Pete and I on the couch. I couldn't take it anymore, so I got up went back to the rooms, grab the razor, then made my way to the bathroom. I locked the door and sat on the floor against the walls. I'm about to pull up my sleeves to cut, when I decide that I cannot mark up my arms any longer. what if I was playing a show and my sleeves rode up? that would be the end of the road right there. 

I stand back up, then pull down my black skinny jeans exposing my hip, and thigh, I take the blade, and begin to carve away. after I've had enough, I cleaned up then went back down and sat next to Pete. we talked for a few more hours before I excused myself to bed. 

"you sure 'trick? it's only 10."

"yeah I'm sure. night."

I walked back to my bed, and crawled under the covers, not even bothering to bandage my thigh, or change out of my show clothes. 

***

I awoke to the sound of Pete's voice. 

"wakey wakey 'trick. come onnnnn get up."

"fuck off"

"Hey! don't be that way!"  
then he began to tickle my stomach. I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my mouth. 

"stop it!" I said while giggling. 

"never. I am the great Pete wentz! I shall only stop when I wish too."

I punched him in the stomach then crawled away form him to the corner of my bed, taking my covers with me. 

"fine fine. I quit. you punch like a girl by the way 'trick."

I cracked a smile, and Pete burst out laughing. then suddenly, his face paled, and his grin faded. 

"trick...? is.. is that.. blood?!"

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Patrick

I froze. Shit. Shit. Shit. What do I tell him? _Anything but the truth._

"Patrick. Answer me. Is that blood?"

I think for a second before I finally come up with a convincing lie.

"yeah, it is. I was slicing an apple yesterday when my hand slipped, and I cut my palm. I was too lazy to clean it up. I'm such a clutz. Sorry for scaring you."

Pete thought for a moment before he began to laugh. It was a nervous laugh though and it didn't reach his eyes.

"only you trick. Only you."

Pete leaves the room. That was close. Shit that was too close. I can't get lazy.  I must be more careful.

***

The next few weeks go by well. I start experiencing several dizzy spells. I continue to get scrutinizing glances from pete and andy, though joe is still oblivious. i decide today that I'm going to weigh myself. I grab the scale from underneath my bed, and sneak off to the bathroom. I quickly scurry in and lock the door behind me. I set it down and step onto it.

Time for the big reveal. 91. 91 pounds. I have lost over 100 pounds. It makes me feel happy. And yet, it's still not enough. I can still see my stomach puff out. The fat on my thighs. I know I need to lose more. I need to be perfect.

I walk out and run straight into pete.

"perfect timing â€˜trick. We were about to go out to eat. Care to join?"

I cannot. I cannot go and ruin all of my progress.

I'm not that hungry Pete."

"Bullshit! You need to eat trick! You haven't eaten in days!"

"I have. You just haven't seen me. I'm sorry pete. I'm just tired. I need sleep."

"why don't you go to bed. I'll bring something back for you. What do you want?"

"I don't care."

"ok. I'll see you later trick."

"bye."

I head back to my room and crawl into bed. I lay there for a while, still not asleep, when I hear the guys walk in. I quickly roll over, and feign sleep.

"trick?"

Pete walks in. he takes a minute to study me, before he walks back out.

"where is he?" andy asks.

"he's asleep."

"andy, I need to talk to trick. There's something wrong. I know him. There's something he isn't telling me. I don't think he's ok anymore. He's sickly and unhealthy. He's quiet and withdrawn. He pretends that he's happy around me, but I see through it. I don't know what to do!"

"pete. Just talk to him. We have to confront him. He's lost too much weight, and I think he's depressed.

"I know he is. I wish I could help him. I just don't know what to do. I don't even know who he is anymore. I miss my best friend. Tomorrow's the last day of tour. We'll talk to him after tomorrow's show."

"ok. Goodnight pete."

Tomorrow's the last day of tour. Then we're done. And I'm alone again. I don't want to be alone anymore.

***

I wake up tomorrow around 4 PM. Just in time to get ready for the show. I get dressed. I'm rerally anxious and I want to cut, but I can't because pete rushed me out of the bus. We make it to the dressing room, and we do a quick sound check. Afterwards, I excuse myself to the bathroom. I know I'm cutting it close, but I need it.

I grab my blade, and I quickly take off my leather jacket. I'm alone tomorrow, so I don't even care if I cut my arms. I press the blade into my skin, and jerk it down my arm in a quick motion. It tears a deep deep gahs into my skin. I cut again a few more times, before moving on to the other arm. My arms are both bleeding badly now, but I can't find it in myself to care that much.

"Patrick hurry! The show starts any minute!"

Shit shit. No bandages. I wipe off as much of the blood as I can and throw on my jacket, and run out just in time to walk on stage. The performance starst. It goes amazingly. To start.

Then, my head begins to feel dizzy. I mess up some chords but continue to play. As I'm dancing around, I notice drops of blood on the stage. Shit. It's leaking out of my jacket. I'm getting dizzier now. My vision Is hazy. I mess up another chord, and just as I'm supposed to hold the sustained note, I feel myself falling. I look over just in time to see pete drop his base and run over.  I never see him reach me.

My vision goes black. 


	3. chapter 3

**Pete**

something is wrong with Patrick. I can feel it. He’s been my best friend for years, and I know when he’s hiding something. Except, I can’t figure out what it is. He just seems, depressed. He’s not the same Patrick anymore, and it kills me. He’s so skinny, and he just looks so tired. It’s hard. He’s hurting and it kills me inside. He’s keeping it to himself, he’s not talking to me anymore. He hardly ever looks at me. I don’t know what to do. 

 This isn’t the same Patrick. The Patrick that’s cuddly, with just the right amount of belly fat. This isn’t the Patrick that’s always happy, outgoing yet awkward. If something is really wrong with him, and I didn’t see it? I would never forgive myself. Ever. I need Patrick. I need him like I need to breathe. He’s me oxygen. He’s my everything. I love him. Not just as my best friend, I’m completely irrevocably in love with him. But I know he’ll never feel the same. It’s patrick. He’s perfection. He’s everything. And, well I’m me. Pete Wentz. A mess. A complete and total mess that doesn’t deserve Patrick. He’s so out of my league, he’s too good for the world. I don’t even deserve him as a best friend. I don’t know what I would do if I lost him. 

I can honestly say, I wouldn’t be far behind him. I need to talk to him. This can’t go on for much longer. He’s not eating, and he’s obviously not sleeping. He looks like the walking dead. Skin and bones. I know Patrick gets in his own head. He’s so sensitive. He’s kind to everyone except himself. I can see it in his eyes sometimes. The conflicted emotions. The self hatred. I’ve been there. Oh god have I been there. But Patrick? For MY Patrick? The possibility of him even going down that road, it terrifies me. He’s the last person on this planet to deserve that. He’s to perfect for this world. I see him scrolling through hate comments. I don’t know why he does it. I try to stop him, but I can’t. He never listens. 

Hes been eating less and less. I’ve been trying to bring him meals, bu to can only hope he actually eats them. I’m shaken out of my thoughts by joe. 

“You ok man?” He asks quietly.

”yeah, I’m ok. Just worried about Patrick. I don’t think he’s ok. He isn’t talking to me, and I’m worried for him.” I whisper.

” You and me both.”

“we should talk to him.”

“Yeah, I think we should Pete. I’ll go get Andy. You get Patrick.” “No, it’s the last day of tour. We should just wait till tomorrow.” “You sure about this Pete?” “Not really, but I think this is our best option.” “Ok. Let’s get ready for soundcheck.” I go to look for Patrick, but I don’t find him. “Has anyone seen Patrick??” “I’m sure he’ll turn up” Patrick finally does show up. He looks awful. He looks pale, sickly, and like he’s been crying. I want to ask him if he’s ok, but we’re on in less than two minutes. “See you out there Patrick.” He smiles and nods, then stumbles out on stage. At first, the show is going well. The crowd is amazing, and the energy is like nothing else. About halfway through, Patrick starts to stumble. He’s sweating profusely, and he looks faint. When he begins to mess up, that’s when I know there’s a problem. He looks at me one last time, and I swear my heart broke into two. He looked like he was giving up. Then he collapsed. “PATRICK” I threw my base on the ground, and ran to him. I pulled his guitar off of him. “SOMEONE CALL 911!!” I gently pick him up. Bracing myself. But as soon as I pick him up I choke. He couldn’t weigh more than 85 pounds. Oh trick. Why? Tears slowly made their way down my face. I Raced over to the couch, and set him down. Immediately I check for a pulse. There was one, but it was weak. I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. I brushed his hair out of his face. I listen to his breathing. The ambulance comes and loads him in. “One person can accompany him!” I look at joe and Andy and the roll their eyes. “Go.” Andy says. I climb on to the ambulance. I sit down and I hold his hand. They rip off his jacket, and start to put tubes into his arms. They pause for a second, looking at both of his arms. Oh my god. Oh. My. God. Not my trick. Not my beautiful innocent trick. There are cuts all up and down both of his arms. Scars, healing cuts, and deep massive cuts. There’s blood everywhere. I start to cry. My perfect beautiful trick. How could he? How did I not notice? This is all my fault. All of the sudden, I hear the monitor flat line. No. Nononononono. NO. He cannot die. HE. CAN. NOT. DIE. They start CPR. The. They start compressions. 1,2,3. They are the only thing keeping tricks heart beating. They grab the paddles. “1,2,3 CLEAR” I hear one of them shout. They shock tricks body, and it moves. His heart doesn’t start beating. They do it again. And again. Then finally, they get a heart beat. Thank god. Thank god thank god thank god. Soon we pull into the hospital. They rush trick inside, yelling all kinds of medical terms I don’t understand. The only thing I do understand is that he’s in critical condition. Oh trick. My trick. I go into the waiting room and sit down. Andy and joe arrive a few minutes later. As soon as they arrive, I burst into tears. “H-he d-d-died. In t-the a-ambulance. They h-had to r-restart his h-heart.” Joe and Andy both sadden at the news. I sit down in one of the chairs again. Waiting for news. Something. Anything. He has to be ok. He has to. I can’t live without him. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Pete**

We sat there. All night. All night. 5 hours, and then they finally came out. The doctor came out. I’ll never forget the look on his face. He looked so tired, and so grim. 

“Patrick is alive. He needed over 30 stitches in both arms. He’s lucky that he didn’t bleed out. Because of the anorexia, his heart couldn’t handle the strain, and he went into cardiac arrest. We were able to save him, however, he went into a coma. We aren’t sure when or if he will wake up.” 

I choked. If?? My Patrick might never wake up? I might never hear another one of his silly jokes, or funny stories. I might never get to see his smiling face. Or hear his beautiful voice again. I might never get the chance to tell him I’m in love with him. He might die, never knowing how much he really meant to me. If he dies, I’ll go with him. I can’t live without him. He can’t, he can’t leave me. I need him. 

“C-can we see him?”

”yes. Follow me.”

I walked behind the doctor, trying to prepare myself for what I might see. When I walked into the room, I couldn’t help but gasp. 

Patrick was laying on the hospital bed. He looked so pale, and so fragile. And yet, this was the most peaceful I have seen him in a long time. The thought made me want to cry. He was hooked up to several machines, with tubes going everywhere. Both of his arms were covered in thick white bandages.

i sat down beside him and grabbed his hand. Andy and joe sat down in various chairs on the other side of the room. I took his hand in mine, and I started slowly rubbing circles on the back of it. 

“Oh trick. Why would you do this to yourself? Why? Why didn’t you come to me? I need you. I hope you know how much you mean to me. Wake up trick. Please wake up. I need you. Please don’t leave me. I love you.”

i began sobbing into his bedside. I couldn’t control it anymore. 

***

its been almost 2 weeks. It’s unbearable. I’ve hardly left trick’s side. I leave only to eat, occasionally take a quick shower, or go to the bathroom. And only because the guys make me. I sleep by trick’s side every night. The longer he stays in a coma, the smaller the chance he’ll wake up. 

***

joe and Andy have left the hospital to go home, and joe is spending time with his family. They come daily to check on me though. I refuse to leave trick’s side. It’s been over two weeks now.

***

the doctor told me today, that there’s less than a 40% chance that he will ever wake up. They set a date to pull the plug. It’s only a month away.

please trick. Please wake up.

i was sitting beside his bed, holding his hand and carding my fingers through his hair, when I decided to get up for a coffee. I stood up, when I heard the most beautiful sound in my life. 

“Don’t go....” 

i turned around as soon as I heard the whisper. 

“PATRICK??”


	5. Chapter 5

**Patrick**

i woke to the feeling of fingers carding through my hair. It felt nice. Peaceful and relaxing. I heard a sigh, and then the fingers stopped. I heard footsteps moving away from me. My eyes were still closed, so I didn’t see who it was. 

“Don’t go....” i whisper.

”PATRICK?”

i open my eyes immediately, and Pete rushes over to my bedside. He grabs my hand and holds it close to him. He looks so different. He looks strung out, and I can see the dark circles under his eyes. He has quite a bit of stubble, as if he hasn’t shaved in forever. 

“Pete..?”

”oh Patrick. My Patrick. Why??”

i opened my mouth to say something but instead I yawned. 

“I’m going to call Andy and joe, and get the doctor. Why don’t you sleep?”

”Pete... stay with me.”

”I’ll only be a minute and then I will.”

i wauted until Pete got back to try and sleep. He walked into the room, and I patted the spot beside me. He immediately climbed into the bed with me. I curled into his chest and started to drift off. I fell asleep to the sound of his breathing, and his hands in my hair.

***

when I woke again Andy and joe were there. I began to cry and I opened both arms. Andy and joe immediately came over and hugged me. 

“Patrick, we need to talk now.”

”okay Pete. About...?”

”about you.”

”how long have I been..? What’s wrong?”

” Oh Patrick. You’ve been out for almost two weeks. Y-you, oh god. You died. Your heart stopped and you died in front of me. You had to get over 30 stitches in your arms, and you weigh less than 85 pounds.” Pete says. 

“Oh...”

”the question is, why? Why didn’t you come to me? What happened that made you this way?”

” We’ll... I don’t know. I was fat. I weighed too much. A-and I just hated looking at myself. I couldn’t take it”

i look around the room and realize that Andy and joe left. 

“Patrick, you weren’t fat. You were healthy. He perfect weight. You were perfect. Beautiful. Y-you are perect. I-I need to tell you something. I know you don’t feel the same way, and that this might be hard to hear, but please don’t hate me.”

He’s ditching me ISNT HE??? he doesn’t want to be friends anymore. He is going to leave me. I start to hyperventilate. I can’t breathe. I CANNOT BREATH. I. CANT. BREATHE. 

“Patrick. Patrick buddy, calm down. Breathe with me. One, two, three. Yeah just like that.”

as soon as I can breathe again I begin to sob. I throw myself into Pete’s arms and stay there. He rubs circles up and down my back. 

“Patrick. I love you.”

”I love you too.”

” No. Patrick. You don’t understand. I’m IN love with you.” 

Everything stopped. In love with me?? Pete Wentz?? Is this some kind of joke? Something for pitiful Patrick to keep him from killing him self? 

“You’re lying.”

”no. No Patrick I’m not. I really do love you.”

it worked! I got Pete to love me!

”what worked Patrick?”

”nothing.”

”tell me. Please.”

”my plan. It worked. You, you like me now.”

pete gasped. 

“You mean to tell me that I did this??? You almost died, because of me?”

pete sat back down on the hospital bed. I turned around and kissed him. Slowly. Like we had the rest of eternity to love eachother. eventually Pete pulled away. 

“I love you.”

”I love you too.”

”trick.. why did you do this. Why didn’t you think I loved you?”

”because you’re pete, and well I’m Patrick. Fat, washed up, celebrity. You date hot models, these amazing people with amazing bodies. And, I’m me. I’m fat. And, I wanted you. I loved you. I needed you. I knew you would never love me. But I hope I could make it so I wasn’t such an embarrassment to you.”

“Trick. You are anything but an embarrassment. You’re amazing. Enthralling. Beautiful, talented, perfect. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

It was beginning to get dark and I was yawning again. 

“Go back to sleep Patrick. We’ll talk about this more tomorrow.”

”ok.”

i curled back into pete, and fell into one of the first restful sleeps I’ve had in a long time. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Pete

it’s been a week since Patrick and I have spoken. We’ve layed together in silence, while I hold Patrick to my chest, but it’s just been to much to start a conversation. I know I need to finally talk to him today. I need to find out what really happened. He’s being released today, now that he’s finally gained a few pounds back. 

Hes getting his final check up now. The recommended that he go to a psychiatrist, but for now, trick refused. I understand, sort of. There’s such a stigma around medication anymore. Mental disorders are still made fun of, and medication is still frowned upon. 

For now, we told the public that he was really sick, and he’s recovering. We postponed the tour for a month, to give Patrick a little time to recover, since he begged us not to cancel it. I told him he needed to gain 15 pounds before we’d continue the tour. He begrudgingly agreed. That was the last time we talked. 

“Hey Pete” Patrick said as he finally returned form his checkup. 

“Are you all cleared trick?” 

“Yup! I’m coming home!” 

Patrick agreed to move in with me for the time being, because we couldn’t trust him to be safe on his own. I’m so glad he’s ok, I just don’t know what to say to him anymore. 

 

****

Patrick

 

its been a week since Pete and I talked. I think he’s really upset with me, he hardly even looks at me. I don’t think he really wants to hold me. I think he made it all up to give me a reason to live. He must have known I was in love with him somehow. How could someone love me anyway?

im going to leave the hospital soon thank god. I just need to pass my final checkup. All week they’ve been pumping me fool of calories. Stupid fatty calories that I don’t need. I don’t get dizzy anymore, and I miss it. Not because I like being dizzy, but bc I know that that was a side effect of being thin. 

Mom sitting here in my room alone with my dark thoughts, when I’m interrupted by a sharp tapping on the door. The doctor quickly opens it. 

“I’m doctor Ross. I’ll be the doctor giving you your checkup.”

”ok.”

he continued on, asking my my symptoms, asking me how I felt, before deciding to release me, saying I should continue to gain weight before I was allowed to exorcise. 

What has my life come to??

i slowly walk to the bathroom and change out of my hospital gown, before gathering my stuff, and walking out to the waiting room. 

“Hey pete.”

”are you all cleared trick?”

”yup! I’m coming home.”


	7. Chapter 7

The drive home was tense. Neither of us spoke. Which was fine, because I wasn’t sure what I would say anyway. It was just, I loved pete. I loved him so much it hurt to breathe. But I felt like his love was pity love, and that he would leave me at the first sign of trouble. I sighed. I would have to keep this to myself for now. We pulled into Pete’s apartment, and walked up the stairs. He unlocked the door, put my stuff on the floor, (he was carrying it because I couldn’t) and sat down on the couch. “Trick, sit.” Isat down, waiting for what was about to come. “Now talk.” “About what?” “You know what.” “Ok. Basically, I’ve loved you since, well, since our first tour. I fell in love with you when I was still a teenager, and we were touring in a van. You were just so, amazing, and I was just stupid me.” Pete made a face at the last comment, but he let me continue. “As tour continued you were hooking up basically every night. Then you found Ashley, and married her, and it felt like the end of the world. That was the first time I contemplated suicide.” Pete choked on his drink, set it down and just gave me a hug, holding me tightly. I continued. “I started gaining weight, and when you and Ashley divorced, I was happy again. You and I were close, and everything was fine. Then you started dating Meghan. And I just, I felt like you could never love me. Ever. I was too fat, and too annoying, and too me. You were perfect, and I was a mistake.” Ibegan to cry. Loud sobs escaped from me, and I felt like everything was happening all over again. Like I was nothing. Like I was nobody. Like I was worthless. “Oh Patrick.” He held me as I sobbed, rubbing my back. Back and forth back and forth. “Patrick, look at me.” I didn’t move. “Patrick, look at me please.” I released him from the hug, and looked him in those beautiful whiskey brown eyes of his. “Patrick, I love you. I’ve loved you from the day I met you. You’re golden. With your voice, and how you’d never hurt anyone, and just the way you act. You’re so talented and you always act so humble. I love it all. Patrick you never needed to lose weight. You were always perfect. Always. There was never anything wrong with you. And I’m sorry I never told you I loved you. I will regret it every day for the rest of my life. I lovee you, for you.” Pete gently grabbed my face in his hands, and kissed me. We kissed until we couldn’t breathe. “I love you trick, and we’re going to figure this out together.” /p>


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short, I’ve been pretty busy lately! Sorry! I promise a longer update next time. Well, here you go.

It had been a few weeks since I was living with Pete, and so far, everything had been going smoothly. It was difficult though. Most days, I didn’t want to eat. Some days I didn’t even want to get out of bed. I was extremely depressed. Pete was always there though. Doing everything he could. And I loved him all the more, for sticking by my side. Until, one day, I got drunk. Really drunk. That’s when Pete and I got into a huge fight, causing a rift in our relationship. We fought about tour, about me, and how I didn’t talk to Pete, it was horrible. We haven’t talked for a week since. And every single day, I’ve been carving up my arm. And without Pete to make sure I’m eating, I haven’t eaten a thing. It’s been horrible without Pete. I think he hates me now. I really do. With those thought on my brain, I finally fell asleep.   
The next morning I woke up, and walked out into our kitchen. I sat down, trying to stop the dizziness from walking. Pete walked out, and I tried to say something, however he ignored me. I sighed. Maybe I should just leave. It’s obvious he didn’t want me here. I decided I would move back into my old apartment. I started packing my stuff. After I was all packed up, I left a note for Pete on his pillow.

Pete,   
I’m sorry for everything. I love you, I really do. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. I’m sorry for our fight. I said things I didn’t mean, things I couldn’t ever mean. I’m moving out, because it’s obvious you don’t want me here. I’m sorry.   
All My love,   
Patrick.

I began trying to pick up some of my bags, before I got extremely dizzy. I tried to grab ahold of something, before I fell, however I was unable to. I fell, banging my head against the back of my dresser. That was the last thing I knew before my vision went black. 


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you so much to everyone who’s read, reviews and left kudos on this story! I’ve hit almost one thousand reads! That’s crazy!!!


	10. Chapter 10

Pete   
I felt so bad for the way I had treated Patrick as of late. I know he didn’t really do anything wrong, but I can’t help but to feel angry with him. It’s infuriating, because I know he doesn’t deserve it. I need to stop being so petty, especially over something so stupid. His health is deteriorating again, and I can’t help but to feel guilty. I know it’s my fault. I know for a fact he hasn’t been eating, and I get the feeling he’s been cutting too...  
I sit there for a while, before deciding I would forgive him. I needed too, for both our sakes. I stood up, picking up my phone. I checked the time and nearly swore aloud. ‘Shit!’ I thought too myself. It’d been four hours! I had to get home to Patrick and make him listen to me. I race home as fast as I could, but it’s still twenty minutes till I get home. I immediately go into The living room, however Patrick isn’t there. I then start searching the house, and walk into my bedroom, to see if he was there. I find a note on my pillow. 

Pete,   
I’m sorry for everything. I love you, I really do. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. I’m sorry for our fight. I said things I didn’t mean, things I couldn’t ever mean. I’m moving out, because it’s obvious you don’t want me here. I’m sorry.   
All My love,   
Patrick.  
And all I can think is, ‘I’m too late’.   
I lay down and cry. It’s thirty minutes before I realize that Patrick didn’t take all of his stuff. There’s a suit case still in my room. I jump up, and run over to Patrick’s room, wondering if he fell asleep. I wasn’t prepared for the sight that lay before me.

Patrick lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood, breathing shallowly. I immediately checked his pulse. It was shallow, but there. I breathed out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. I was so thankful he was okay. I gently set his head down, before immediately jumping up and dialing 911. I waited about 15 minutes before they got there, just holding Patrick, hoping he’d live though this. Hoping he’d be ok. I needed him to be okay. He couldn’t die because of something I did. He couldn’t die at all. I loved him too much for that. 

When the ambulance got there, they loaded Patrick into the ambulance, immediately sticking needles and tubes into his body. I was so scared, I sat there waiting.   
“Are you riding with us?”  
“Yes, of course.” I said.   
I got in, and sat down, immediately grabbing Patrick’s hand, Squeezing it tightly. He had to be ok. He just had too.


End file.
